


Cling (It'll Drive Us Insane)

by sequence_fairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, PWP, with a side of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re both still high on adrenaline, hands still bloodied from the battle and when Ichigo kisses her; he can taste hot copper on her lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cling (It'll Drive Us Insane)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilija](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilija/gifts).



> For the lovely Ishisakaa, who drew me a thing, and so, I had to write her a thing.

His desk would be more convenient, but that means moving from where he’s pressing Rukia back into the wall, her lithe body trembling in his arms. They’re both still high on adrenaline, hands still bloodied from the battle and when Ichigo kisses her; he can taste hot copper on her lips. Rukia arches in his grip, and Ichigo swears as her hips cant forward and brush against him. She twines her arms around his neck, fingers twisting in the hair at the back of his neck.

“Fuck, Rukia,” Ichigo hisses, head bowed. Her breath is hot on his neck, and she whines as he presses her back further into the wall. Ichigo shifts, bracing his knees and then cups the backs of her thighs. He hitches her up, sliding her higher on the wall. She lifts onto tiptoes and then off the ground entirely, and wraps her legs around his hips, tugging him in towards her.

They tear at each other’s clothing, and Ichigo swears colourfully when her hands find him beneath his  _ hakama _ .  He’s been hard since the fight ended - since he watched Rukia destroy Hollow after Hollow with a lethal efficiency that would frighten other people out of her bed and only makes him want her more. His hips stutter forward as she jacks him, slowly, up and down. He grits his teeth when she adds another hand, and fights himself back from the edge.

Two can play at this game, and Ichigo’s hands are suprisingly deft when they need to be. He tightens his grip on the back of her thigh, and uses the other to delve through layers of cloth. Her whole body shudders and her mouth goes slack around another moan when he finally finds her centre. She’s hotter than fire, and into that slick heat, he slides first one, then two fingers. She rolls her hips into his hand, bucking against the pressure of his thumb against her clit.

“I’m telling you Kurosaki,” Rukia says, breathless, “if you stop, I’m going to run you through with your own sword.” Her head thunks back against the wall, and the sound she makes when he curls his fingers just so goes straight to his cock.

Normally, Ichigo would balk at following direction, but in this one arena, he is remarkably biddable. He doesn’t spend any time wondering why he is so willing to do whatever she says when he’s got his hand buried in her cunt and her eyes have darkened to a violet so deep it might as well be black. He watches her writhe, pinned between the wall and his hand.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he husks, leaning in to kiss her. The kiss is more bite than soothe and if something dark stirs in the back of Ichigo’s mind at the way Rukia’s teeth sink into his lip, he ignores it in favour of keeping the thrust of his fingers and the rub of his thumb slow and deliberate.

“Please Ichigo,” Rukia moans, and the way his name is almost breathless on her lips leaves him no choice. He withdraws his hand, and pushing his own clothes out of the way, frees himself. Rukia watches as he fists his own cock, but her eyes flutter shut when he lines up and thrusts. It’s a smooth wet slide that weakens his knees.

Ichigo steadies himself with one hand on the wall and re-grips the back of her thigh. He rocks into her and Rukia meets every thrust with a roll of her hips. Ichigo can’t believe his luck. He’s fucking Rukia Kuchiki into the wall of his office, and she’s swearing brokenly into the side of his neck. He gives himself a mental high five and then gets on with the task at hand - namely, getting Rukia off.

It takes no time at all before Rukia is clenching around him, her nails digging into the skin of his upper arms and her mouth latched like a firebrand on the side of his neck. Ichigo succumbs to his own climax and follows her over the edge with a hoarse shout. When they come back to themselves, breathing hard and trembling from the adrenaline crash, Rukia looks up at him.

Ichigo’s breath catches in his throat, and he swallows hard. He doesn’t want to think about the way that look of hers eases something hot and tight in his chest, doesn’t want to think about how well she fits against him, and so he breaks their gaze and eases back from the wall, setting her down on her feet.

Rukia doesn’t step out of his reach, just wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head against his chest. Ichigo wraps his own arms around her, and presses his lips to the top of her head. When she takes him to her bed later that night, he knows it will be slow and tender and everything this was not. He also knows that she knows how close they both came to losing each other, how close they come every time, because they are both too stubborn and too proud to know when to stop.

Ichigo squeezes Rukia close, hears her huff a breath into his chest and then steps back. If she notices some of what he’s feeling in his face, she doesn’t say, just adjusts her  _ shihakusho _ back into place and lifts an eyebrow in challenge when Ichigo stands there dumbly. He fumbles his own robes back into place and they leave his office through the window, stepping into  _ shunpo _ together as they flee the division and make for Rukia’s quarters.


End file.
